Fortesque-Symthe had saved for over a year to go on holiday to the old themed hotel, The Brassington Arms.
He and Lady Clarice had sailed half way round the world to arrive at this place.
Their faces told the story. Shock and horror.
At $500 a day they were expecting only the best.
Instead they found a run down dilapidated once was beautiful hotel.
Sure the tsunami had played havoc on the tourist venues but at no time did the hotel suggest there was an issue with their establishment.
The good Fortesque-Smythe sighed at the sight of the still wet lounge, the damp looking staff and the absence of a café even did not enthuse them in any way.
To make matters worse the staff who were in attendance didn’t seem to be interested in them at all.
Fortesque-Smythe looked around at the forlorn hotel, his good wife was huffing and puffing in indignation.
They had booked two weeks.
They saw the mops, the brooms, the cleaning tools and implements.
Never having done a days work in their lives they had the best and most rewarding holiday ever.